I Don't Think I'm In Camden Anymore
by Chalcedony Rivers
Summary: Whilst searching for a hairdryer in Naboo's room, Vince finds himself on a psychedelic adventure to find the Wizard of Camden, destroy the Wicked Witch of West London, and get home before the Topshop sale starts. A story in 2 parts.
1. Part One

**Note – This story is dedicated to **reincarnatedwitch**, the father of the brainchild that is this fic and its inspiration, for all her general amazing-ness and awesome conversations. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.  
>Warning - Strong, infrequent swearing and mild peril.<br>**

Vince knew that he really should have known better than to go through Naboo's stuff. But it was an emergency, his hairdryer was malfunctioning somewhat and his hair was dripping wet and heaven forbid it went frizzy again (God had had words with him about that). So when he found the small cardboard box labelled "Whirlwinds", he'd only been looking for a small one. It was just that the purple sparkly one looked so enchanting that he couldn't help taking it out of the vial. It was only when the wind took up the whole room and swept him off his feet that he realised maybe it wasn't his best decision.

When he woke up, there seemed something a little off about Naboo's bedroom. He was sure the sky that was pouring in through the window hadn't been that bright…no, it had been raining, hence the need for a hairdryer in the first place. Suddenly panicking, Vince reached up, and breathed a sigh of relief to feel that his hair was all in place. He stood up, trembling slightly, and made his way over to the door. It swung open cleanly as soon as he touched it, and his eyes stung as the sunlight collided into them. He blinked sharply, and stepped outside.

"What's going on here?" he muttered to himself. Somehow, rather than the normal hallway with the door to his and Howard's room that he'd normally look out on, he was standing on a small field overlooking a forest. He would admit it was a pretty genius place. It was the sort of place that, if Howard were here, he'd start prattling on about woodland and the call of nature.

Vince suddenly felt very, very alone.

"Halt!"

He jumped, and spun around to see a group of small blue people standing behind him, looking vaguely similar to the blue weirdoes on Xooberon. They were staring at him with rigid eyes. Vince swore under his breath, and looked at the room he'd just come out of. The door was still open, and he could still see Naboo's room through the square, but now the exterior looked more like his old Zooniverse hut. Yeah, it was pretty incriminating.

"Speak your intent, stranger!" cried out the leader.

Vince shrugged. "I was just looking for a hairdryer."

"Behold!" one of the strange men said, and Vince got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He followed the man's outstretched finger to where two legs were sticking out from underneath the hut, clad in a pair of red, sparkly, ruby-encrusted platform boots. Vince's eyes widened, and he swore again. This was certainly not the best way to be introduced to the locals.

"Oh…" he muttered awkwardly, and offered a sheepish grin. That usually helped. "I didn't mean for that to happen…"

The dwarves fixed him with their eyes. Then the leader smiled in a sycophantic way that made Vince internally recoil.

"You have saved our tribe from the evil Wicked Witch of East London, who has troubled us for hundreds of tens of years. You must be the Chosen One!"

Vince rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. I'm Vince Noir, Mayor of Camden."

There was a collective gasp of awe from the group. "He is apprenticed to the Wizard," said the chief appreciatively. "Truly, he is a great leader."

"The Wizard?" Vince frowned.

"Yes. The Wizard of Camden is the ruler of all our land."

Vince nodded. "Right. So, does anyone know how to fly this thing?" He pointed towards the house. "Only, I've got to get back. If Howard goes more than five minutes without an intervention he might panic. I'll find him naked in a skip cuddling a broom."

The faces of the dwarves were blank. Vince sighed. "Right. Great. I'm gonna have to sort this out myself."

"Maybe you don't have to," came a sudden voice. Vince spun around, searching for the source of the noise, but was met with a cloud of smoke and a bright, streaming beam of light. He shielded his eyes as the tribesmen began to chatter excitedly. After a moment, the smoke cleared, and despite still being pummelled by the light, Vince could make out a figure that had appeared a little way behind him.

"Yeah, can you pull your skirt down, I'm going blind here!"

"Oh. Sorry," said the figure, and the beam of light suddenly vanished. "I'm Old Gregg. I'm a scaly Good Witch."

Vince tried very hard not to laugh, but the sight of his old nemesis holding a wand and with a tiara atop his mass of seaweed was almost too much to bear. He'd been through worse adventures before, but this one was just plain strange.

"Alright? I'm Vince."

"I'm Old Gregg!" the merman grinned.

"Yeah, I got that."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

There was an awkward moment of silence before the Good Witch spoke again.

"You're in trouble, hm? You fell from the sky and squashed Lance Dior. The Wicked Witch of West London won't be happy, Vincey. But that's ok, coz Old Gregg's gonna help you. You get what you want. Old Gregg gets what he wants."

Vince smiled in relief. "Cool."

"Now listen very closely, boy," said the Witch. "You see those boots on his feet? You need to wear them at all times to protect them from – I'm not done yet!"

Vince was already tugging the boots onto his feet, not needing much prompting. "These are genius. I feel like I'm walking over a rainbow. And they're exactly my size."

The Good Witch waited patiently until he was done. "The shoes must be protected from the Witch. He can do no direct harm to you if you're wearing them."

"Right. So how am I supposed to get home?"

The merman pointed to a roadside that ran through the forest. "You gotta follow the Yellow Brick Road through the Forest until you get to the city of Camden."

"Yellow Brick…hang on," Vince frowned incredulously. "Am I in _Somerset_?"

"No, fool. Now, when you get to Camden, you must go straight to the Palace and speak to the Wizard. He will help you to get home."

"Oh, right, him!" said Vince, with a glance towards the still-huddling Munchkins. "Well, great. I'd better be off then. Is there anything else I should know?"

"D'you love me?"

"What?"

"I'm Old Gregg!" crowed the Witch, and then he vanished in a cloud of smoke. Vince sighed, and turned to face the forest. Suddenly, he felt something pressing against his side, and he looked down to see the face of the head dwarf looking back up at him.

"I can come because I'm the favourite of the Chosen One?"

"Get lost," said Vince, and the blue man ran off to join his tribe. Looking down appreciatively once more at the boots, he smiled to himself, and set off towards the forest.

Wherever he was, he reckoned, it was a pretty nice place, the sort you might find on the back of a postcard. Vince had never really been one for leaving Dalston too much – he liked the adventures that seemed to crop up around him, but actually spending time in a place with no electricity was definitely Howard's forte. He wished Howard was with him now. Yes, his friend would already be blustering away about the dangers of the wilderness or whatever, but he needed the company, and he knew from experience that things tended to go wrong when they were separated. Plus, Howard knew what to do in these sorts of situations, like finding supplies.

"Supplies…" Vince muttered, and he patted down his pockets, only to find merely a half-eaten packet of strawberry bootlaces. He tutted, straightened up, and looked around him for a Tescos, but it seemed there were no shops for miles. The road seemed just to extend indefinitely. Vince tutted to himself, and rested his hands on his hips. Then he noticed a small field up ahead of him, ringed by apple trees. He grinned at his own good luck, and sauntered up to it, ready to pick the fruit down.

"If you dare touch those apples, you prancing tit, I will put you in a world of pain."

Vince frowned, and looked around him for the source of the voice. There was nobody there. Shaking his head, he reached up again.

"Oh, you like playing games, do you? I'll take you out for a meal with Mr. and Mrs. Pain. Serve you up some violent quiche, hm? You won't know what's hit you, then _ow_!"

"Yeah, who is this?" Vince yelled, adopting a Cockney-bitch stance just in case. There was a rustle behind him, and he turned around to see a scarecrow, standing in the middle of a field glaring at him. Admittedly, it was a pretty shambolic scarecrow, dressed in a tatty Hawaiian shirt and cords, with a tweed jacket and a battered Panama hat. Vince frowned. "Were you talking to me?"

"Ah, turn and face your enemy, you futuristic prostitute!" said the Scarecrow, as it suddenly became animated and wildly swung its arms about. "Eh? I've got the moves; I'll show you the moves. I'll be coming at'cha like a ray, like a beam, like a buzzard."

"Oh yeah, and what're you gonna do?" Vince retorted. "You're made of straw. You'll fall apart like an Ikea flat pack."

The Scarecrow was silent, staring back with his tiny eyes. Vince crowed in victorious delight. "Yeah, nice comeback."

"Oh, I'll comeback at you, sir," the straw man replied. "I'll comeback at you hard. You available next Tuesday?"

Vince scoffed, and in one smooth motion, pulled an apple off the tree and bit into it. The Scarecrow's face fell in horror.

"No!" he cried. "Don't do that!"

"Yeah," Vince laughed. "Who's tough now?"

"You don't understand," the Scarecrow pleaded. "Farmer Bainbridge, he'll burn me for this. I'm useless; I can't even scare the crows away. I'll be put on the bonfire."

Vince sighed, feeling a wave of sympathy for the creature. It always was his weakness; the need to protect something smaller than him, to help it. He walked up to where the Scarecrow was hanging on its pole, and tapped it consolingly on the arm, ignoring the muffled "Don't touch me," he got in return.

"Look, it's not all that bad, yeah? Some of your insults were pretty good."

"What's the point?" the Scarecrow lamented. "I'm made of straw. I haven't even got a brain. If I had a brain I'd be able to comeback at people, sir. I can't even get down from this pole."

Vince thought for a moment. "Look, if I help you get down maybe you could escape, yeah? Get away from here, live your life."

The straw man frowned. "You really mean it?"

Vince nodded. "Sure."

"Nobody has ever shown me such kindness before…" the Scarecrow muttered, and Vince felt a rush of affection for the creature. He wrapped his arms around its plump, cushioned middle and heaved it off the pole, setting it down on the ground again. He smiled, and the Scarecrow smiled back.

"And hey, look, where I come from, if a scarecrow got up and started moving, we'd all be pretty scared. Especially if it was wearing _that_."

The Scarecrow cocked its head. "Where _are_ you from?"

"A place far away, called Dalston. I'm going to Camden to speak to the Wizard; get him to send me back?"

"You're going to see the Wizard?" it cried. "Can I come with you? Maybe he'll be able to give me a brain."

Vince grinned. "Yeah, genius!" He started to wander off down the road, with the straw man walking beside him. "I'm Vince. What's your name?"

The Scarecrow beamed. "My name is Scarecrow."

Vince only rolled his eyes a little bit, glad for a travelling companion. After all, Scarecrow wasn't Howard, but he'd do for now.

After an hour or so, the two reached the edge of the forest. By now, the sun had fallen just a little from its peak of magnificence, and the shadows of trees were beginning to stretch out longer. The wood was lush and cool, casting a bottle-green light on the ground from where the sunlight filtered through the trees. Vince breathed in the crisp air, so unlike the suffocating atmosphere of his home, and sighed.

"This is it," he muttered, looking through the thick tree trunks into the canopy. "According to the Good Witch, Camden should just be through here."

"Ah, the Forest," Scarecrow sighed. "A Scarecrow's natural habitat. Just a man and the open road, Vince. Yeah, I could live like this."

"Well, that's good, coz you can share a house with Johnny Hermit over there," Vince replied, pointing to the small cottage that could just be seen through the trees. The pair approached the building. As Vince got closer, he began to notice that it wasn't in fact a place of residency, nor was it resided in. The small house stood alone in a clearing, with frayed red ropes lining a pathway from the road. Ivy clung to every angle of the building, the windows were broken and the door looked like it had been kicked in. A dilapidated sign reading _The Velvet Onion_ swung on its hinges above the doorway.

"What happened here?" Vince muttered to himself. "This place has gone to ruin."

As if in response, there was a sudden rusty squeak from behind the building that made Vince jump and Scarecrow mutter "Don't kill me, I've got so much to give," under his breath. Vince squared his shoulders, and marched round the back of the building in search of the source of the noise, his companion hot on his heels. There was only a metal statue there, concealed by weeds and rust. It was a very lifelike image of a portly man with a wiry perm, wearing an undersized tin foil suit. He looked like he'd been standing there for ages.

Vince shrugged. "There's nothing here."

The squeak came again, and Vince's gaze flickered over to the statue, which was now gazing at him with lifelike eyes. He frowned, and aimed a dull kick at the metal leg. There was a muffled cry of outrage in response. Vince suddenly noticed the can of oil by the statue's feet, and he sighed: "Well, stranger things have happened."

He picked up the can and squirted it at the statue, careful not to splash any of it on himself. Presently, the metal joints of the man began to squeak and move, and the tin lips began to part.

"Ow, you numnut, what did you kick my leg for?"

"You were rusting!" Vince protested, and Scarecrow stepped forward in defence.

"I'm not here to be abused!" the Tin Man protested, folding his arms with much difficulty. "Note to self: I hate whites."

"Why are you out here anyway?" Vince asked.

"It's a very long story."

"Oh, is it? Alright then, let's go…"

"No, wait!" cried the Tin Man. "Gather round! Not you, Oil Can. I used to own this Nightclub, back when I was a pink fleshy round face-"

"A what?" Scarecrow interrupted.

"Y'know, a pink fleshy round-face wa-wa guy."

"You mean a human?"

"Ooh, I'm Scarecrow; I know how to use my talky round-hole!" The Tin Man extended his arm, and pressed a button on his wrist. "Say that again?"

"Human."

"Yeah, well, back when I was a…" The Tin Man pressed the button, and a metallic imitation of Scarecrow's voice came booming from the Talk Box. "_Human_…I was the boss man of this here Nightclub. We had the most fun-filled night-times in London. We once got a fox so fucked out of his mind he almost attempted world domination! But we couldn't pay the Wicked Witch his protection money and so he turned me into metal, pissed on me and left me here to rust – and then you found me!"

Vince looked vaguely disgusted.

"I have survived only from the hope that some day I would be able to dance again. For when I dance – oh, see how I light up the Forest!" the Tin Man cried, and with a crack of his hinges he began to move frantically, gyrating his pelvis against a tree and rubbing at his chest with his fingertips. Vince and Scarecrow looked at each other in anxious confusion. Eventually, the Man turned back to them with a leer.

"And that's why I don't like cricket," he stated.

"Well, this had been fun," Vince mumbled, rubbing his hands together. "But, er, me and Scarecrow had better be scooting, yeah?"

Tin Man's shoulders sagged with a screech. "You don't like my dance?"

"No, no, it was…interesting," Vince slowly replied.

"Oh, it's horrible!" the metal man cried out. "You see, when I got turned into tin, I lost the use of my heart and now my chest is hollow. I can't dance properly without my heart. Without it, I am nothing!"

Vince sighed at the piteous creature. "Alright, look, we're on our way to visit the Wizard. He's going to send me back home and he's giving Scarecrow here a brain. Maybe he can sort you out."

"Really?" Tin Man sniffled.

Vince nodded.

"Oh, thank you!" Tin Man looked at the Scarecrow. "You really are lucky to have such a lovely wife."

"He's not-"

"Don't worry, Scarecrow." Vince tapped the straw shoulder consolingly, and the now-trio carried on their venture out of the clearing and into the depths of the Forest.

Gradually, the coolness of the woods dampened into a chill that snaked around Vince's bones and made him shiver. The dappled light had faded and spluttered out a while back, leaving only the blank darkness. Shade clung to the trees like eye shadow, dripping its residue onto the mossy grass. The bricks of the pathway had broken and cracked somewhat during the early stages of the forest, and now only a thin and dingy dirt trail led their way through the woods.

There was a sudden fearful groan in the distance, and Vince grabbed onto Scarecrow's arm in reflex.

"What was that?" he demanded.

Scarecrow tried to look brave, but the terror in his small eyes betrayed him. "Owls."

"What, pretending to be wolves?"

"They're very good mimics?"

"What?" Vince cried, but then there was another yelp, this one far closer.

"Yeah, there might be a few wolves in this forest…"

"You're kidding, right?" Vince snapped.

Scarecrow shook his head. "And maybe lions. And tigers. And bears. But don't fear, Vince. I know the ways of the forest! You need to speak to it…" He breathed in deep, and made a series of strange noises. A tree branch whacked him on the head.

Vince laughed. "I don't think the forest liked what you were saying."

"Yes, well…" Scarecrow muttered, picking leaves from his straw. "The forest is a cheeky one tonight."

There was another howl, and Vince gulped. "The forest is a cunt tonight."

"What are we gonna do if we meet a Russian hairy carpet guy?" cried the Tin Man.

"You mean a bear?" Vince sighed, exasperated.

"Yeah, that one."

"Well, it always helps to know the difference in dealing with a brown bear and a black bear…" Scarecrow babbled, but nobody was listening, for there was a rustling in the trees that was growing closer and closer. The trio huddled together in fear, and Vince tried not to shake. In front of him, the trees parted.

"Oh my God!" Tin Man screamed. "It's a naked little squashed up hairy boy!"

"Gorilla."

"Say that again?"

But there no time for Talk Box repetition. The huge ape leered down at them, and beat his chest with ferocity, growling and huffing in a terrifying way. It circled the group a few times, and roared. Vince tried not to scream, and shut his eyes in anticipation of his imminent death. He'd always hoped that when he finally kicked the bucket, it would be with his best friend by his side, not thousands of miles away from home with two ballbags for company. He waited for the gorilla's claws to slice through him. He waited, and waited. Then, tentatively, he opened one eye to see his assailant sucking on an asthma pump.

"Sorry," the gorilla wheezed. "Be with you in a minute."

Vince rested a hand on his hip. "Easy, you Jack of Clubs. What're you playing at, eh?"

The gorilla visibly cowered. "Don't know what you're talking 'bout."

"Yeah, you do! Picking on something smaller than you; what's that about? You overcompensating for something?"

Vince's sharp tone sent the animal ungainly lumbering towards the safety of the trees. He sighed, and let his hands drop to his sides. "Cool your boots. M'not gonna hurt you, yeah? I'm like Mowgli in flares."

"Promise?" the gorilla huffed. Vince's resolve crumbled like wet Ryvita.

"Promise. Now get your monkey anus over here."

Slowly, the primate shuffled back over and shyly faced Vince.

"See, that's alright, ain't it? You big coward."

"I am coward…" the gorilla moaned, hanging his head. "I am ashamed."

"Well, don't be like that," Vince said soothingly.

"I am scared of everything. Every day I get bad feeling. I have no courage. I am even scared of myself."

Vince internally sighed, sensing a quickly developing pattern. "Look…Gorilla, me and my mates here, we're going to Camden to try and speak to the Wizard. He might be able to help you, too."

Gorilla huffed in consideration. "You really think so?"

Vince shrugged. "Fuck it, why not?"

"Oh, thank you!" Gorilla exclaimed. "What is your name?"

"I'm Vince."

"Precious Vince. You are my friend."

Vince felt his heart swell, and tried to stifle it with a well-timed cough. "Right, well, we should probably get a move on then."

"Wait!" cried Tin Man. "Only two people would venture this far into the forest at this time of night: a fool, or an idiot."

"He's right, Vince," added Scarecrow. "You should get some sleep. Me and Tin Man can keep watch."

Vince laughed. "Relax. Gorilla here's the only thing we had to be worried about."

As if on cue, there was a melancholy howl that made each member of the party start, and Gorilla cling onto Vince's arm in terrified desperation.

"Right…" Vince muttered. "So there really are lions and tigers and bears, then."

"No. No lions," Gorilla replied. Vince sighed in relief.

"Just tiger-bear mutants."

"Ah."

It was amazing how quickly he dropped off to sleep once he'd put his mind to it, snuggled up against the reassuring bulk of Gorilla. It was as if his mind had flicked a lightbulb on and off again; and although he felt refreshed once awake it didn't feel like any normal sleep he'd ever had - much less that when he did awake, his eyes were assaulted with Tin Man's face staring intensely down at him.

"Good morning, Vincey."

"Er…" Vince muttered, becoming increasingly anxious for his well-being. "Morning. Can you move back, I'm getting a bit claustro?"

Now that the fresh morning sun had filled up the sky with its radiant glow, the forest didn't look quite so foreboding. Scarecrow was sitting on a rock, regarding him shyly, with a bundle of apples by his straw feet. Vince took one of the apples and began to feast on it accordingly. He proclaimed the Scarecrow to be a genius, and the man made of hay had the good grace to look abashed by the compliment. Vince handed out his strawberry laces, and gave Scarecrow the packet, damning healthy eating to hell where it belonged.

It didn't take them long to get out of the forest, and despite the fact that every so often Vince had to fend off a metal arm slyly looping around his, it was a pleasant enough walk and the conversation agreeable. Eventually, the thick shrubbery and foliage gave way to empty fields, and the Yellow Brick Road pieced itself back together until it sparkled good as new in the sunlight. The city of Camden stood proudly in the near distance, its clean concrete buildings seemingly glittering with grandeur.

"There it is," said Scarecrow, with barely masked awe. "Camden."

Vince was just glad to be one step closer to home.

The group marched along towards the city, when suddenly there seemed to be a shimmer in the air that rippled around them, barely noticeable to the naked eye. Vince shrugged it off and carried on walking. After a few minutes, he felt something black slip by in the far corner of his vision, and he abruptly stopped walking. Then he felt something sliding against the small of his back. He started, and cried out, but then there seemed to be more of the black things squirming all around, but when he tried to look it seemed there was nothing there. They began to encircle him, and then something wrapped itself around his ankle and shivered upwards to meet his eye. It was a gigantic eel, writhing grotesquely. Vince tried to call out as the hypnotic whirl made him stumble, but he only fell backwards as a disembodied voice rasped, "Do you like eels, boy?" into his ear. He was only vaguely aware of somebody calling his name as the darkness rushed towards him.

He awoke to the feeling of a pair of arms around him, pulling him to safety. His mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool.

"Howard…?" he muttered, and he blinked. Scarecrow was looking down at him with a terrified expression. "Oh," he mumbled. "It's just you. What happened?"

"You and Gorilla just blacked out," the straw man said, his voice still edged with the shredded remains of panic. "We think it was a spell; there's some bad juju in the air. But then it just vanished. The Good Witch must've done something."

"Oh, right," Vince said, clambering shakily to his feet. "Anyone got a resolve?"

"Are you alright, Vince?"

"Yeah, m'fine," he grinned. He looked down at where Gorilla was slowly coming round. "Come on, shift your monkey anus. We've got a Wizard to see, eh?"

After that, Vince's usual sunshine persona rapidly returned, and he ignored the Tin Man's offer to lean on his shoulders as the group walked, with rather more pace and urgency than before, down the remnants of the road. They eventually came to face a huge, towering door, and Vince couldn't help the grin that escaped him.

"This is it," he said, and he reached up and banged on the door with his fist.

There was an awkward pause. Then a window slid open, and Vince found himself staring into a small pink face.

"Alright, squire," came a very strained-sounding voice. "What can I do you for?"

"Alright?" Vince smiled. "We're here to see the Wizard."

The face looked as if it was about to open the door, when suddenly there came another voice from behind him. "Tony! Tony, what are you doing, you flipping cleft?"

"What?" the thing called Tony protested. "What's your beef?"

"You are not supposed to talk to the outsiders, Tony, and you know this." Another window opened, next to the first, and the second face looked down at the group.

"Oh, fuckin' hell!" groaned Tony. "You were on your tea break, sipping down your little red velvet latte. I couldn't just leave 'em there. Step aside and let the H-man take control once in a while."

"Actually, I think you'll find it was an espresso, you knob."

"You can't handle espresso, sunshine. I've seen you with Kirk at the last Palace Guard party, knocking back the caffeine shots; you threw up after the first round. You were taking it with whipped cream just now."

"We were all off our faces that night, you bladder, let's not get personal."

"This is an outrage, what're you talking about? You were drinking milk like a pansy that night, glugging it back, pretending it was a White Russian!"

"You're a disgrace, Tony. Just because you can't handle the crunch-"

"Oh, my word! Are we back to the crunch?"

"Yes, we are back to the crunch, you flipping berk!"

"Always fucking pastry goods with you!"

"What would you know about pastry, Tony? You can't even pick up a Danish."

"What're you trying to say, squire?"

"I'm saying that you are the end result of four billion years of evolution, and those things you call tentacles aren't its best triumph, are they?"

Vince coughed loudly. "Excuse me?"

"Look at that, Saboo; you're making this young lady wait."

"_I'm_ making her wait? How dare you!"

The two carried on bickering, but the door opened up nonetheless, and the group quickly slipped in before any more time could be wasted. Vince looked around at the clamoring throng of hip young people, and breathed a sigh of relief as the door slammed shut behind him.

"Right," he said, and Scarecrow, Tin Man and Gorilla looked back at him with wide eyes. "Let's go get ourselves some magic."


	2. Part Two

Once the two gatekeepers had stopped bickering, the group was handed over to a young blonde boy who, wherever he was, definitely wasn't on Earth. He led them silently, occasionally giggling madly at a puddle, past trendy cafes and independent clothes shops towards a large building in the middle of the city. The building itself was pretty magnificent. In comparison to the towering grey blocks of the rest of Camden, the Wizard's palace was painted a bright, vivid red that made Vince's eyes water. Wordlessly, the stoned child ushered them through the heavily-guarded front door, where they were met by a tall bald man wearing an extravagant cloak.

"What do you want?" the man queried as the boy slunk back into the shadows.

"We're here to see the Wizard," Vince explained.

The guard sneered. "The Wizard is very busy. He does not take visitors."

Vince frowned incredulously. "What?"

"You can't come in; I'm afraid your journey has been as wasted as Kirk."

"Oh yeah?" Vince scoffed. "Who's going to stop us?"

"I am," said the man, and he unsheathed a massive sword from underneath his cloak. "I am Dennis, Captain of the Palace Guard."

Vince looked at the sharp metal and edged cautiously backwards. He would not want to be found in a cupboard with this man's wife. "Alright, cool your boots!"

A rough hand tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to see Scarecrow's upset eyes staring at him. "What do we do now, Vince?"

"I…I dunno."

Vince looked at his companions, who were looking at each other with sorrowful expressions. "I'm sorry I dragged you all here."

"It ok, precious Vince," consoled Gorilla.

"Yeah. We can just go back, but…how are you going to get home?" said Tin Man.

Vince shrugged. "Fuck knows. The Good Witch told me the Wizard would help."

"Wait…"

He turned around to see Dennis looking suspiciously at him. "What?"

"Did you say the Good Witch sent you?"

"Yeah. He…she…_it_ even gave me these boots." Vince stuck his foot out, and as the crimson reflection shone onto the Guard's face he smiled broadly.

"Well, why didn't you say so?" he cried. "Any friend of the Witch is a friend of the Wizard. Follow me!"

Exchanging triumphant grins, the foursome trailed after the Guard, through the somewhat psychedelic interior of the Wizard's palace. After a short while they came too a large green door, which swung open under Dennis's hand. The room they found before them was large and mystical, with strange hypnotic sounds and sweet-smelling incense that wafted gently around the room. The room was divided in half by a large red curtain, with a cartoon monkey face drawn over it. As the group watched, the smoke gathered into a ball and formed the shape of a large face that glared down at them.

Dennis stood to attention. "Forgive me, my Liege," he called out. "Were you in a trance?"

The hypnotic sounds suddenly stopped. "No," said the face in a bored, lisping voice. "I was listening to Fleetwood Mac."

"Ah. You have visitors," said Dennis, and he swiftly left the room. The face turned towards the group, and frowned deeply.

"I'm the Great and Powerful Wizard, that's who," he said. "Who are you?"

Vince gulped, and stepped surely forward. "I'm Vince Noir, rock n roll star," he said, attempting his best charming grin.

"What d'you want?" the Wizard replied, already sounding exasperated.

"Oh, nothing, nothing…"

"You sure?"

"Yeah! Only I might have got myself into a bit of trouble with a flying house?"

The smoky face rolled its eyes. "'Ere we go…"

"Yeah, and Scarecrow here needs a brain, Tin Man needs a heart and Gorilla really needs some courage. You wouldn't mind helping us out a bit, would you?"

There was a long, tense pause, and Vince felt Gorilla sway behind him trying to resist the urge to faint.

"The Wizard will grant your request…"

The group looked excitedly between each other.

"But first you must do something for me."

"Genius. What?"

"You must travel far into the depths of West London," said the Wizard mystically, "And you must bring me back the Top Hat of the Green Wicked Man Witch of West London."

Vince frowned. "That's a bit of a mouthful, ain't it?"

"Bring me back the hat and I shall grant your request."

Gorilla nervously shuffled on his paws. "But what if Witch kill us?"

The face was silent, and slowly dissolved before their eyes. Vince took a deep breath, and looked at his entourage. He tried a cheerful grin.

"We'll be alright," he said. "Come on; let's get this over and done with, eh?"

The group left Camden in solemn silence that hung over them like a dark cloud, Gorilla's words buzzing silently behind like an insect. It was Scarecrow who led the way, for now there was no Yellow Brick Road to guide them; Vince had very little recollection of the orienteering Howard had once tried to teach him. Although it couldn't have been past midday, the sky quickly darkened as they made their way over ragged hills and ruined bricks that looked like they had once been houses. The trees lost their leaves, becoming more twisted and gnarled with each step. Mountains rose before them, slicing through the horizon. Shadows wound their way around the light and suffocated it, until even Tin Man's shiny exterior seemed dull.

After a long while, Vince stopped. "Christy…" he groaned. "You'd think I didn't have better things to do with my time. How long is it going to take?"

"Well, we're going at a steady speed, and judging by the sun we've walked two miles, so it should be…fifteen minutes?" Scarecrow replied.

"Yeah, and the castle's over there, you numnut," muttered Tin Man, pointing to a place in the midst of the craggy rock. The castle was almost invisible amongst its mountain dwelling, but when Vince looked closer he could just make it out.

"What is that?" Gorilla asked, suddenly sounding terrified. Vince followed his gaze, and gasped sharply. There was a swarm of something dark gathering over the mountains; an army of dimly lit shapes that moved as one unit, growing swiftly closer.

"Abandon ship! Mommy!" Tin Man cried out, and grabbed Vince's arm. Vince turned and began to run back down the path with Scarecrow and Tin Man directly behind him. But when he turned the swarm was close enough to make out the individual shapes. They were monkeys, airborne on tattered wings, flying faster than Vince could ever hope to run. Gorilla's massive bulk dived in front of him, acting as a shield, but it was no use. He felt cold talons close sharply over his shoulders, digging into the fabric of his top, and then he was lifted off his feet. He yelled as the ground vanished underneath him and he was tugged high into the ink-stained atmosphere. Below him, his friends were trying to fend off more of the beasts, but soon he could no longer see them as he was carried towards the castle of the Wicked Witch of the West.

Eventually, he unceremoniously landed on a parapet. The monkey flew away, and Vince quickly checked his shoulder for any rips in the fabric (and potential scratches, secondarily). Then he scoured around him for any means of escape, but save for a long and probably lethal abseil with no rope, it didn't seem too likely.

"Hello there, squire," came a rasping voice, and Vince wheeled around to see a figure shrouded by the shadows. It was the same voice he'd heard in his ear that morning – had it only been that morning?

He swallowed. "Alright?"

The person in the shadows stepped forward, revealing a stooped old man with emerald skin and a thick white ring over one eye. He leered menacingly.

"That were a bad time for you, weren't it, boy?"

Vince shrugged. "I've had worse."

"Don't give me lip, son, or I'll slash your head off your neck," growled the Witch. "I'll kick your face off and give it to the monkeys, and then I'll do something unspeakable to your stump. You got that?"

Vince nodded. "Er…yeah."

"I saw you coming!" cried the man. "I saw you in my crystal ball; I said is that a geezer or a lady? Don't matter, mind, 'coz he's wearing something what's rightfully mine."

Vince pulled at the fabric of his shirt. "This is from TopShop…"

"Not that, you onion! The boots!"

The crimson glimmer attracted Vince's eye once again, and he looked down with a cheek-splitting grin. "Oh, yeah! These are genius. I can see my face reflected a thousand times on each foot; how cool is that?"

"Now you see, boy, I want those boots. Give them to me and I might let you keep one of your eyes."

Vince frowned, and shuffled back towards the crumbling wall. He set his jaw and looked the Witch squarely in the polo.

"Nah, I don't think I like that plan very much."

The Witch leered. "Do I look like a reasonable man, or a peppermint nightmare? I'm a simple bloke. How about you give me the boots and if you don't like that transaction, I'll jab you in the gums with me screwdriver."

"Yeah, but, you can't hurt me," Vince grinned, triumphant. "I'm a gifted child. And I got the boots."

The Witch snarled at him for a moment, like a hungry animal. Then he smiled an evil smile, and grabbed Vince's shoulder in a vice-like grip. "Alright, boy. I'll play your game. But just remember, mind, a lot of bad things could happen to a boy like you."

With that, he roughly steered Vince down off the parapet and into a small room on the very edge of the castle. There was a small window that looked out onto the wasteland of the East, and Vince found himself being pushed up against it. Below him a group of green uniformed guards marched around the castle's perimeter. He could see no sign whatsoever of his travelling companions.

"You see that?" crowed the Witch. "When I get those boots, I'll rule the Universe. An army of green bitches, marching and destroying everything in their Cockney wakes! It won't be long now, boy." He walked over to the only object in the room, a small sand-timer on top of a red velvet-clothed table, and turned it upright.

"When that sand runs out, there'll be nothing in the world can protect you. Your pretty face will look like Picasso when I'm done with it."

He cackled, and quickly left the room, locking it behind him. Vince ran after him and pounded on the door, but it was to no avail. A tune began to play outside, and when he looked, he saw that the army had each begun to play on a small pipe. The music sent fear rushing through his veins, and he cursed under his breath.

"Howard, for fuck's sake…" he muttered to himself. "I dunno what to do."

He slapped the wall with the palm of his hand, and then slumped against it in despair. After a while, he looked up at the room around him. It was dark and barren, and too small to deserve any credit. Vince really thought it could have done with some glamming up, but who was he to comment on the décor choices of a Cockney nutjob? It was cold, and shadowy, and he was scared.

He didn't know how long he sat there, picking at the moss growing through the damp stone walls and trying to ignore the rustling drip of the sand-timer. But suddenly, after what seemed like hours, there was a thump against the door. Vince leapt to his feet, and glanced towards the table, where the sand was nearly gone. His heart in his mouth, he backed himself into a corner as something large bashed repeatedly at the door, and the wood began to splinter. Then it burst open, and there came a gasping wheeze.

"Gorilla need therapist when this over…"

"Oh, my sweet Lord!" Vince cried as his friends, dressed in the dark skeletal uniforms and bowler hats of the guards (with what looked like his strawberry bootlaces cellotaped to their faces, but he wasn't one to dwell on details) piled into the room. "I almost had a heart attack!"

"Vincey, you're ok!" cried Tin Man as oily tears of gratitude began to stream from his eyes. Gorilla sucked on his asthma inhaler in victory, and Scarecrow ripped the pink moustache from his face.

"We should leave," he said, his breathing heavy. "If we take a left turn and go round the back we should be able to cross the moat before the Witch finds us."

"Good plan," Vince agreed, and the group made to leave. Then he remembered something. "Oh, wait a minute!" he called, went over to the table, and turned the sand-timer onto its head. Then he grinned, and took off after his friends.

The group ran through echoing corridors and down twisted staircases through the labyrinth of the castle, discarding their uniforms along the way. True to Scarecrow's deductions, the route they took led them towards the gateway of the castle. But suddenly, two guardsmen appeared from behind a column, and they screeched to a halt and turned back as a cry of, "They've escaped, boss!" bounced off the stone and reverberated throughout the building. Vince's lips were dry and his body was beginning to ache, but still he stumbled onwards.

"We're going the wrong way!" he yelled out, at the same time as Gorilla called, "They gaining on us. I got a bad feeling about this."

"We haven't got a choice!" Scarecrow called back as he led them frantically up a flight of steps. The group burst through a doorway, and Vince found himself breathing in a lungful of cold air as the walls vanished and the parapets of the castle stretched out before them. But then his steps faltered and died away, as another set of guards rounded the corner, the Witch at their head, blocking off the exit. The Witch stepped forward.

"Oh. We're in deep diarrhoea…" muttered Tin Man.

"Foiled, foiled by a sparkly androgyne. Oh, the sweet irony!" the Witch cried, sneering a smile of pure evil. "But I've got you now. You hand over those boots, or I'll find a better use for these dildos here. Come on, boys, knock their murdering smiles right off their faces! I wanna see twisted bone and meat all over the back wall by the time I'm finished!"

Gorilla growled, and stepped protectively forward.

"Do not harm precious Vince," he snarled menacingly, and it might just have been the high altitude, but Vince felt sure the Witch flinched. Tin Man followed suit.

"Yeah, you better watch it, or I'll be all over you like a nun sandwich," he snarled.

The Witch snarled. "Oh, really? Are you bulletproof, boy?"

"Yeah!" the metal man replied. "You ever felt a bullet-proof vest against your naked skin? It's better than beautiful. It's beauteous."

"Er…right," said the Witch, withdrawing a switchblade from his pocket. "I'm still gonna slice you up, mind, one by one. It'll be like Connect 4 in dagger terms."

"You can't do this!" Scarecrow protested. "We'll take you down. I rain down the pain, comin' atcha like a kestrel."

"Oh, really?" said the amused Cockney. "I don't think so, squire."

He pulled a lighter from his other pocket and it lit up with a magnificent orange flame. With a malicious sneer, he threw his arm back, and sent the weapon flying at Scarecrow. It hit the straw man squarely in the torso, and Scarecrow stumbled backwards as the dry hay that made up his body slowly began to catch. Vince swore, and launched himself at his friend, trying to pat out the flames. Then he felt something seeping through his top, and he stepped back to see Tin Man holding a large, conveniently-paced bucket of water. Scarecrow's chest was immediately doused, and Vince breathed a sigh of relief. But then there came a blood-curdling scream from behind him, and he spun around to see something strange happening to the Witch. Great bulbs of green goo were dropping to the floor as the evil man began to melt away.

"Aargh! It hurts! It burns! You've liquefied me, you slags!" screamed the Witch, and then he was gone, with only a smoking hat and a green puddle the reminders that he'd ever been there at all.

"Oh. Right," Vince said after a moment. "If he melted under water, then why the _fuck _was there a bucket of it right there?"

Scarecrow shrugged. "Some things we will never know, Little Man."

The bemused soldiers looked between themselves, unsure of how to act. "Who wants some malt loaf?" one of them suggested after a moment, and a chorus of, "Yeah, I'll have a slice," came in return. The army casually drifted away, no longer caring about their prisoners, leaving only the occasional murmur of, "I'm a Cockney, I'm a Cockney…" in their wakes.

Vince stooped down and picked up the hat. He looked at his friends and beamed.

"Let's get ourselves some wizardry!"

The walk back to Camden seemed after that a lot shorter, and a lot more pleasant, than it had been on the way to the Witch's castle. Vince carefully carried the precious hat all the way, and listened quietly to his friends babbling on and on about what they would do with the gifts the Wizard would bestow on them. Before long they were back at the city, the now-solitary gatekeeper (who seemed to have relinquished Harrison of his duties) let them in wordlessly and they found their way to the castle unaided. Dennis seemed pleased, if slightly perplexed, at their reappearance, and led them straight to the Wizard.

"Alright, Wizard," Vince said cheerfully, as the large face appeared once more before them. He held up the accessory for all to see. "I got your hat!"

The Wizard frowned. "How'd you do that?"

Vince shrugged. "It was quite easy really."

"The Wizard cannot grant your request today. Come back tomorrow."

Vince paused, flabbergasted. "Hang on, tomorrow? I need to be first in line for a TopShop sale at six in the morning, I can't hang around."

"The Wizard has spoken; get out."

"Oi, what're you playing at?" Vince shouted, becoming more irate by the second. "We did your dirty work, we got you the hat, now give us what we came for!"

Next to the floating head, a hand appeared holding a picture of two kittens. "Look at the picture of the kittens in a barrel. Look at them; they're having a whale of a time."

Tin Man made a noise of endearment, but now the others were angry too. "You can't just go back on your promises like that!" Scarecrow protested.

"I am. Let that be a lesson to you. I'm going to have to turn my back on you now."

"I've had enough of this!" said Vince as the face spun away from them. "What's behind that curtain, eh? Potions and lotions, I'll bet. You better give them to us, Mowgli, or we're gonna hurt you!"

With that, he strode forward and wrenched apart the huge red curtain in the centre of the room. They slid back effortlessly along the rails, to reveal a small kiosk in the centre of the empty space. Inside the kiosk was a small man, frantically pressing buttons and pulling levers. It was the Wizard.

"What's going on here…?" Vince muttered. The man looked up at him warily.

"Er…shit," he muttered, and the microphone sent the curse booming around the room.

"Too right! You're not a Wizard, are you?"

"Nah, I work at Dixons," said the Wizard, adjusting his turban.

"So…you can't give us all the stuff you promised?" asked Scarecrow sorrowfully. Beside him, Tin Man had begun to whimper again.

"Look, maybe there is something I can do," the Wizard grudgingly replied. He reached down, and pulled up three small objects. He held up the first, a small bottle.

"This is liquid genius," he said. "It's made from the tears of Steven Hawking. If you drink this, you'll instantly know everything there is to know about the universe." He handed the bottle to Scarecrow, who looked at it as if it were gold.

The Wizard took up another small box. "This is a box of owl beaks," he said, passing it to Tin Man. "You won't have any problem with love after this, I can tell you."

"Thank you, Wizard. I should kiss you on the mouth with gratitude."

"Please don't. Finally, this…" he withdrew a small scrap of paper. "Is a short anecdote. If you tell people this story, they will fear you more than anything."

Gorilla took the paper, and frowned. "Who is Chiko?"

"He's your friend. Or was," the Wizard nodded wisely.

Vince leant towards him as his three friends moved a little way away to discuss their new possessions. "That's actually quite genius," he admitted. "Those will all really work? And that potion's really going to give Scarecrow a brain?"

"I doubt it; that was just Lucozade."

"Right…so, how are you going to send me home?"

The Wizard glanced towards the floor. "Yeah, about that…"

Vince straightened up, and his mouth fell open. "You can't send me home?"

"I'm powerless, Vince. That lot are simpletons; they'll be happy with those. But you actually need magic for that, and that's something I can't do."

"Why not?"

"My carpet license has been revoked. Have you tried an Oyster card?"

"Well, this is fucking brilliant!" Vince cried out, ignoring the concerned glances his friends shot him. "I'm going to be stuck here forever, am I? What about me? I've got a life. I've got friends. I've got an unruly mob of followers. What's Howard going to think? He'll be shitting himself! I want to go home."

Suddenly, there was a searing bright light that burst around the room, and a cry of "I'm Old Gregg!" rebounded off the walls. Vince turned around to see the Witch adjusting his tutu, with a manic grin.

"Hi there," the Witch beamed.

"Yeah, actually, I've got a bone to pick with you!" Vince cried, marching over to the funky merman. "You said if I went to the Wizard he'd be able to help me, but he can't even send me home!"

"Easy now, fuzzy little man peach," said the Witch soothingly. "The Wizard has helped you, hm? You learnt the value of helping others in need."

Vince frowned. "Fuck that; I've got priorities. I need to straighten my hair!"

"You had the power all along," replied the Witch. "Those boots on your feet are magical. If you tap them together three times and think of home, they will take you back to funky freedom."

"Really?" Vince sighed. "This is all over?"

The Witch nodded.

Vince looked over towards his three friends, and stepped over to them. He looked into Gorilla's mournful eyes, and the animal wiped a tear away before enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Bye, Gorilla," he mumbled into the soft fur. "Thanks for, y'know, protecting me and all."

"Anything for Precious Vince," the monkey replied, and slowly released him. Vince turned towards Tin Man, and patted him on the shoulder as his eyes began to leak again.

"Just promise me you won't get rusty again, alright?" he said. Tin Man shakily nodded.

Scarecrow was shuffling awkwardly on his feet when Vince turned to face him.

"I think I'm doing to miss you most of all," he sighed. "You small-eyed genius."

"How dare you?" replied Scarecrow half-heartedly. "Your face is too…visually noisy."

"Your comebacks are getting better," Vince smiled, and then pulled the straw man into a hug, ignoring the muffled "Don't tou-...oh, never mind," against his shoulder. When he pulled away, Scarecrow smiled gratefully at him.

"Thanks for everything, Vince," he said.

Vince winked, and surveyed the group of onlookers around him. Then he closed his eyes, and tapped the heels of the boots once, twice, three times together. He thought of the sound of buses running through puddles, and all-night Tapas bars. He thought of neon signs and fashionable haircuts and the colour that leaked through the grey streets of Dalston. He thought about a shop bell ringing, and about jazz hummed under mustachioed breath. He thought of home.

"_Vince...? Vince? Vince!_"

Vince opened his eyes. There were two faces above him, looking down, and he was lying on something hard – wood. He was on the floor. Why was he on the floor?

"Vince? Naboo, he's awake!"

He sat up slowly, and looked around him to see Howard and Naboo looking at him in concern. Howard's eyes flooded with relief, and he sighed deeply.

"Christy, Vince, are you alright?"

Vince grimaced woozily. "Er...yeah, I think so. What happened?"

"We came in and found you passed out on the floor," Howard explained. "I don't think you were here long, though."

"You been going through my stuff?" Naboo suddenly demanded, all anxiety gone, and Vince shrunk away from his landlord's fierce gaze.

"Sorry, Naboo! I was looking for a hairdryer," Instantly, his hands flew to his hair, and he whimpered to find it still wet and messy from rainwater and dust.

"What, and you decided to have a little look at my whirlwinds? That was a powerful one you opened."

"I know," Vince said sagely, with a serious nod. "I know what it is. It teaches you how to tolerate others, regardless of their faults. It don't matter if a man has courage, heart or brains if he hasn't got friends to help him through. I learnt so much, Naboo."

"I'm glad to hear it, but that's not what it's for."

"What?" Vince cried. Naboo shook his head, his arms folded.

"It's a powerful hallucinogenic drug from Xooberon. It creates an extreme visual trip. Kirk wanted one for the next Shaman Council office party. Ballbag."

Vince rolled his eyes, mortified at his mistake, and scurried off to wash his hair.

It was only much, much later that he remembered the most important thing about his mind-trip adventure. He was sitting in the red barber's chair in the shop window, reading the issues of Cheekbone he'd missed whilst unwillingly high out of his mind. Howard was checking over the till, and glanced up when Vince suddenly gasped in horror and dropped the magazine.

"Where are the boots?" Vince cried desperately.

Howard frowned. "What boots?"

"I had these amazing platform boots on! Aw, they were gorgeous, all encrusted with rubies and they were a perfect fit. Where did they go?"

Howard shook his head. "You weren't wearing any boots, Vince. It was a dream, remember? You took your shoes off when you came in, despite me telling you how dangerous it is…Vince? Vince…are you _weeping_?"

_The End._


End file.
